Rocks and Water in the California Sun
by AidenSeamus
Summary: Set in season 1. After nearly twenty years Thatch Morrison transfers to SAMCRO for a new start.
1. Chapter 1

Thatch was thankful for the roar of his Baby. It cut through the quiet California dusk as his mind continued to weigh the pros and cons of his decision to leave.

He'd left the Sons of Anarchy New Hampshire charter five days ago. It still struck a chord within him that his old President's patch would go to someone so undeserving as Tharsten Reynolds. Loyalty to a morally right cause was never the man's strong suit.

His mind refocused on the road as his speed ratcheted up past 90 miles an hour. He couldn't find it within himself to care since he'd been on this trek for almost four days now and he'd only had two comfortable stops. One in Columbus and one in Denver. Every other stop was to refuel or to stretch long enough so his back wouldn't cramp up. The trip from Dalton was about 3,500 miles and, without rest stops, would've only been two days.

Thatch shook his head and smiled as his haphazardly attached speakers changed songs. He glanced at both mirrors briefly and caught his reflection. He hadn't had time to shave at the two dingy motels and it showed. His black stubble grew in random intervals across his face and his silver septum looked unusually dull. His once ocean blue eyes had dulled and the portion of raven hair that jutted out from his basic helmet was greasy from the gel he'd had in it since Denver.

He wheezed a bit and frowned as his hand shook. He'd had his last cigarette around eleven hours ago. The only thing he wanted more was to put Dalton as far behind him as possible. Rachelle would be coming in the next day and he would start over. Again.

The Reaper weighed heavier on his back now, a remnant of his first life start over and he knew, deep down, that it would be there until the day he died. The club had been his life for twenty years. It would take a miracle and then some to reshape it if he chose to walk away for good.

* * *

He had seen the blaze coming into Charming. SAMNH operated eerily similar to SAMCRO with dummy corps and warehouses. When he pulled into the Teller-Morrow lot later that morning, he wasn't surprised to find the club members on edge. Thatch left his Victory in full view of the garage office and slid off.

_Holy fuck, never again. _His body protested his every movement and begrudgingly admitted he should've stayed longer in Denver. His right hand scratched at his chest before it slipped into his pocket and pulled out a pack of Marlboro Reds.

He stood silently as smoke billowed from his nostrils and seeped from his mouth. The mid-morning sun gleamed off of the line of Dyna's habitually parked beside each other. A short memory of his New Hampshire brothers bikes in a similar manner flooded into his vision.

Thatch coughed and pressed his black jump boot firmly to the cigarette he'd discarded on the ground. Concern for Rachelle seeped into the back of his mind and he quickly suppressed it.

_She's not here yet. Worry later._

"Can I help you?" He swiveled on his heels and held out his hand to the woman in the doorway.

"Thatch Morrison ma'am." He watched her shoulders fall in relief once she noticed his cut. "I've been talking to Clay about my transfer." He let go of the woman's hand and slipped them both back into his jean pockets. The last thing he needed was to get in a fight with her old man in misunderstanding.

"Sorry sweetheart," She smiled and closed the office door behind her, "Everyone's a bit on edge after last night."

Thatch nodded and stepped away from her, "I saw the blast from the highway Miss.."

"Gemma." He nodded and lit her cigarette with his Zippo. "Clay's in the clubhouse."

"Thank you.. Gemma." He inclined his head with the hopes that she didn't notice his hesitancy to use her name. He rarely called a woman by her first name.

* * *

As soon as he stepped into the clubhouse, Thatch felt at home. His small smirk became a wide smile at the pool tables and bar set before the closed doors and a hallway leading to several rooms.

He sat at the bar and waited for the doors to open and the prospect behind the bar poured him a shot of JD. He downed it and ignored the looks from a group of Crow Eaters that mingled in the sitting area across the room. He'd had enough of that game. His detached sex and worn pussy phase had fizzled out in his mid-twenties.

_Rachelle said-_

"Shit Thatch," Thatch smirked and stood as Clay came through the redwood doors, "I'm glad to see you."

He welcomed the brotherly hug the older man gave him, "Nice to see you again Clay. Jax."

"We'll take a vote on your transfer tonight." Jax smiled as he shook Thatch's hand, "Bet you saw what happened, huh?"

He nodded, "Yeah, when I came in this mornin." Thatch returned his gaze to Clay, "Gemma seemed like she was heading out," Jax and the others walked past the duo, "Want me to go with her?"

Both men exited the club and put their respective sunglasses on. "Yeah, thanks kid."


	2. Innocents

_disclaimer: I don't own SOA, just my OC's. the three italicized lines are Tara's from season 1 pilot. I'd like to than those who followed this story so far. Any critiques or what you want to know/ see next please leave a review. _

_Thatch Morrison also appears in my first SOA fic Don't Go. _

* * *

_Not this again_

Thatch shook his head to clear his bangs out of his eyes.

_Too much blood. This kid won't make it._

"Get them in here Gemma!" She glared at him as she talked to paramedics on her cellphone. She nodded once and motioned to his attempts to save the baby inside Jax Teller's ex-wife. She already forgave him.

Thatch had noticed the scar on Gemma's chest. He had deduced it was from a surgery to heal a birth defect due to its fade. He sighed inwardly and hoped this child wouldn't have the same defect.

_This club needs some good news, come on kid_

He could feel the tears streaming down his face as he grabbed a clean wad of towels. He'd dropped out of med school half way through. For the first time in a long time, he prayed. He prayed with all of his heart that he would not have to hold another dead child in his hands.

He exhaled slowly and moved out of the way once the paramedics stormed through the door frame. Blood coated his hands, covered his black nail polish and the Van Gogh tattoo on his right hand.

_Get it together_

Thatch washed his hands in the bathroom sink and returned to find Gemma still in the kitchen. They both looked at the pool of blood on the floor as thatch moved to stand beside her.

"That junkie bitch." Although Gemma Teller-Morrow had said this loud and clear, Thatch could barely hear her over the blood pumping in his ears. He needed a cigarette.

"Let's get to the hospital." He was surprised that his voice did not waver. "Jax is going to need all the support he can get."

* * *

He hadn't set foot in a hospital in six years. St. Thomas seemed to be a top-notch hospital for its size and location. Thatch followed silently behind Gemma and allowed his mind to fog with unpleasant memories. Many of the staff members shied away from him which he chalked up to his unusual height and the probable angry glare on his face. He wasn't sure because he couldn't feel anything.

His own sons flitted through his vision. Beautiful twin boys he held in his arms until the younger drew his last breath. His little green eyes had stayed transfixed on his father's gaunt face in death.

_Aidan…_

Thatch leaned against the reception desk and lowered his head in respect as the rest of the club as they walked past to the doctor. He couldn't articulate the words he wanted to say to Jax at that moment. Gemma quickly fled to Clay's arms and the president smiled briefly in thanks.

_"We had to do an emergency C-section_." He ground his teeth together and wondered if Rachelle had gotten to their new home. A part of him needed her here. _"He's ten weeks premature."_

Clay stood beside him and watched Jax's reactions to the doctor. He met Clay's eyes when the older man rested a hand on his shoulder in understanding. He was the only SAMCRO member that knew of Aidan and Milson.

_"He's got a congenital heart defect and gastroschisis."_

"I came at a bad time." Thatch whispered as Jax stormed past them. Clay kept his hand on Thatch's shoulder as he dealt out orders.

"You came to us when we needed some good news, sweetheart." Gemma's teeth worried against her bottom lip as she hugged Clay. "You did the best that you could with the junkie bitch."

He sucked his septum into his mouth , "He has a history with that doctor, doesn't he?"

"She's an old flame." Thatch exhaled. He did not like the undertone in Gemma's voice.

* * *

"What's that smell?" He couldn't refrain from asking as he walked through the clubhouse with Clay.

Clay shrugged and closed the doors behind them. Thatch sat beside him and lit up a cigarette.

"Your transfer will go through." Clay reassured as Thatch wrote out his new cellphone and home phone numbers on a scrap piece of paper. He handed it to Clay with a slight nod.

"Can I ask what happened or do I have to wait?" Thatch let his voice rumble, no longer caring about the effort he'd put behind hiding his deep, rich voice.

"You can sit at the table when the guys get back." Clay lit a cigarette of his own as Thatch put his out in the ash tray and lit another. "What I want to know is why you're hell-bent on this transfer."

Thatch grimaced and choked on the cigarette smoke in his throat. He had hoped to settle in before he got the third degree. "Different views."

"Don't give me that bullshit."

Thatch exhaled and leaned back in his chair, "One of the members wanted the club to go back to what it used to be." He closed his eyes as he sat normally again, "I wanted to keep the new changes."

"Changes?"

"I allowed many new faces to join." He smiled sadly as his cigarette dangled from his lips, "I let women and LGBT members in." He tried not to absorb the look on Clay's face. "I held a vote and passed with most of the members. Only Reynolds and two others voted Nay." He stubbed his second cig out and refrained from having a third. "Reynolds had my VP voted out and took the chair." He chuckled lowly, "I didn't belong in SAMNH anymore."

The room filled with a pregnant silence until the rest of the club filed in. Thatch stood and sat next to a man who introduced himself as Juice. He smiled in greeting and listened in on the latest Nord, One Niner and Mayan news.

* * *

_The shithead didn't do half bad_

Rachelle Donovan smiled to herself as she started unloading her Chevy. She liked the small one floor ranch house Thatch had picked out.

_Hush girl, you're not even dating him, just… living together_

The neighborhood was quiet and visually appealing. She sighed loudly and slipped out of her golden glam heels once she placed the first box on the floor.

It took about an hour to unload the truck and park the trailer full of Thatch's classic bikes out back. She wondered why Thatch had only dropped the contents of his saddlebag on the kitchen floor and left a hurriedly scrawled note for her on the counter.

She picked one of his shirts up off the floor and took a slight whiff. "Ugh. Fucker." She dropped it back on the pile of dirty clothes and made a mental note to do laundry before he got back. "I swear he'd lose his head if it wasn't screwed on."

She went to work cleaning the house up. Down the hall she claimed the larger bedroom as her own and filled the armoire along with the walk in closet with her clothes. She neatly arranged her shoes by color but left the clothes disorganized so she could bring Thatch's things to his room at the end of the hall.

Rachelle found hammer in his top dresser drawer and started to hang his awards and photos on the wall above it. She stopped when she pulled out a picture of Milson. A few tears welled in her eyes as she took the picture out of its shattered frame and placed it in a new one. She left it on the center of the dresser top and closed the door behind her.

She had seen the extent of the man's pain over the fifteen years that she knew him. Dead family, dead kids… she hoped this transfer would ease his mind.


End file.
